


Girls Like Girls, Boys Like Boys, and Everything In-Between

by AlysanneBlackwood



Category: Leah on the Offbeat - Becky Albertalli, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Bisexual witches, F/F, Fairy Tales, M/M, Magic, Tags and fandom will be added as I go, happy endings all around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-19 03:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14865461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlysanneBlackwood/pseuds/AlysanneBlackwood
Summary: Stories for Pride Month, about two each year, started in 2018.  Probably too fluffy.  But we deserve happy endings, damn it!





	1. Indiana Pomegranate

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride! Please read what happens when I binge-watch Stranger Things.

He knew what he was doing when he swallowed those seeds.  He knew what it bound him to.  _ You don’t have to,  _ Jonathan had said,  _ and I understand if you never want to see me again. _

_ No,  _ Steve had said, cupping Jonathan’s face with his hands.   _ Six is enough.   _ When the last of the juice ran down his throat, he kissed him and called him lover.  And, because he wanted a little time to say goodbye, he ascended, back to the trees and plants and friends he knew so well, to tell them where he would be and explain his life as it had become.

Jonathan was sad to see him leave, but it was nothing compared to the joy that lit his face when he heard the words  _ six is enough.   _ No one would ever have imagined that the lord of the dead had a smile so full of warmth and light it could brighten the dark passages of the Underworld on its own.

Steve had decided to return below in September, but Jonathan came above on a hazy, hot day in August, and on bended knee asked for his hand properly, though there was no need to.  It was a nervous proposal, full of apologies, as though he had abducted him. Laughing, Steve helped him to his feet and reminded him that there was nothing forceful about it; he had come down out of curiosity and, taking Jonathan for another soul, had stopped to speak with him.  There was nothing to worry about. Of course he would say yes.

In the time that followed, as the birds flew north overhead, they made love in the garden dirt, bold and wild as any human.  

Jonathan left for the Underworld that night, and Steve followed him the first days of September.  It was a quiet wedding, performed by a soul who was versed in the ceremony, and once it was over they spent the next hours in bed.  The second time was not so wild and quick as the first. They had more time; six months before they had to separate.

It is an arrangement that works well for them both.  For all that Jonathan loves him, below the ground Steve misses the sunlight.  A god of the earth cannot truly thrive beneath it. Jonathan doesn’t visit in the spring and summer.  He has his duties below, and all marriages need some degree of separation.

Perhaps it’s because of the time spent apart that they don’t have the troubles others have.  Perhaps it’s because they don’t see each other so often that they don’t get tired and stray, like so many of the rest do.  There is something wonderfully new in seeing each other for the first time in half a year. And yet it is familiar also, and they cannot think of anyone they would rather see at that moment other than each other.

The winds blow bitter cold above ground on this day, though beneath it is not so cold, merely musty.  A wisp of a soul arrives to tell them there is a man in the throne room, awaiting their presence. Jonathan is surprised, but rises, dresses, and goes, Steve trailing in his wake.

Steve doesn’t care for sitting beside his husband like a sort of consort.  Instead he stands in the shadows of the room, head leaned back against the wall.  Before the throne is a young man, fair and without a shirt. Jonathan swallows, put off by his half-nakedness, but asks his question.

“Who are you here for?”  He’s seen so many people come down, begging for their loved ones to be returned to life.  This one is likely no different, half-clad due to the difficulty of the journey.

The young man raises his head, his lips curving into a sweet smile.  “You, lord,” he says, and rises from his knees. “I’ve heard there’s little to do down here, and I thought I’d be your songbird, to sing to you and make you happy.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need anyone to sing,” Jonathan says, and Steve thanks everyone above for his husband’s bluntness.  “I’m happy enough.”

“Really?”  The young man raises an eyebrow and steps closer, close enough to run a pale finger up Jonathan’s arm.  “How can you be? Doesn’t your bridegroom long for the world above? How can he love you if he’s not satisfied?  Now me, you give me a place to sleep, and I will never ask for more. Such a great lord deserves the utmost devotion.  I do not think he can give you that, if I may be frank.”

Steve steps out of the shadows, already starting to seethe.  This boy knows nothing of them, not truly, and how dare he speak as if he does?  And he has not stopped running his hands all over Jonathan, even when Jonathan removed them.  Steve doesn’t like to be possessive, but this time he must, else this boy will never stop.

“Hey!” He claps his hands together once, catching the boy’s attention.  “What they’re telling you about me up there, it’s true. I miss the sun.  But I also love my husband, and I feel all that together. You can’t come down and tell lies to us.  And you can’t touch someone when they’ve already asked that you stop. Now, leave, else I hurt you.”

“I shan’t.”  The boy sets his chin stubbornly.  “I came a long way for this, and I’m not afraid of you.  I could hurt you easily if I tried. The river will answer when I call it.”

“Get out,” Jonathan says quietly.  The boy shakes his head.

“I could love you far better than a half-away bridegroom longing for the upside.  I would not leave you alone to rot away of loneliness. You would be mad to not want that, lord.”  Jonathan, silent, gestures towards the door. The boy stands his ground.

And Steve has heard enough.  Naiad or no, this boy has overstepped.  Reaching out, he snatches him by the arm, dragging him away from Jonathan.

“You think you’d be of use to him, don’t you?” he asks.  “You’ll be of more use in my garden.” The boy bites his lip.

“Lord, please--”

“You’ve said enough.”  Steve taps his chest with a finger and watches as the boy dissipates in his grip, leaving behind a small, leafy plant in his hand.  

“What did you do?” Jonathan asks, looking behind him.

“Turned him,” Steve replies.  “He’s mint now.” Jonathan breathes out a soft sigh of relief.

“He would have called in his river,” he says.  “I know his kind; the fools who think they can outwit a god.  They never can.”

“No, lover,” Steve murmurs, winding his arms around Jonathan from behind.  “They never will, not against you and I.”

And that remained true.  The lord of the dead and his summer bridegroom saw many others over the centuries: tempters and temptresses, and enchanters who would lure them from each other.  But never did such humans succeed, for it was said (and it was true) that of all the gods, their marriage was the steadiest, a rock in the sea against the storm.


	2. Rose Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A witchy story, inspired by the Brothers Grimm fairy tale "Schneeweißen und Rosenrot" ("Snow-White and Rose-Red").

In a dark, secluded part of the Black Forest, there is a cottage made of stones with a garden to its east, populated with flowers and herbs.  Leah finds Abby in that garden, on her knees among the white roses.

“Who is that for?” she asks, kneeling down to kiss Abby on the forehead.  “You left me alone this morning.”

“For Elisabeth who lives near the river,” Abby says, probing with a shovel so as not to break the rose from its root.  “She needs them for her son. He’s ill. You were out when she came by.”

“Do I need to go to market?” Leah asks, and Abby shakes her head.

“No.  We have food and drink enough for the week.”  Leah nods and steps back, watching Abby carefully extract the rose from the earth, its root intact.  She loves to sit and watch Abby in the garden, watch her bend over a little bloom or sapling and whisper the words to coax it taller.  Abby has a way with the plants, and Leah loves her for it. Gone are the days when she might have been envious of her--they have learned each other’s imperfections, and love each other for them.  It is easier to love someone, Leah thinks, when you know that they are as human as you are.

Abby rises from the garden, carrying the rose with her.  “Can you brew this with the mint?” she asks. “It should heal the man.”

Leah nods, and they go inside their home with the large fireplace and the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling.  Leah takes the jar of mint leaf off the shelf and, after striking a match, lights a fire in the stove and adds the mint and rose blossom and root to a pot, saying the words to enchant the herbs to heal-- _round about the cauldron go,_ and so on _\--_ and watches as the water turns dark and then grey.  When it lightens to a milky color she stops and turns off the stove, to let it cool.  

Abby is nearly ready to step out the door to take the tea to Elisabeth when a knock sounds on the door.  Leah answers, and nearly shuts it in surprise. A girl no older than seventeen stands at the door, her red hair braided down her back.  Beside her is a brown bear, enormous but gentle-eyed.

“You are the witches of this forest, no?” the girl asks softly, her grey eyes round and desperate.

“We--yes.  I’m Leah, and this is Abby,” Leah says, gesturing to Abby, who’s joined her at the door.  “What do you want?”

“Can you transfigure?” the girl asks.  “Animals into humans, that is?”

“We might,” Abby says.  “We’ve never tried. Is this something to do with your bear?”

“Yes.  Might we come in?  It’s a long story I must tell you.”

Leah’s eyes darted to Abby’s, and Abby gave her a tiny shrug of her shoulders, as if to say _she seems earnest, why should we not hear her story?_ So Leah nods, and the girl comes in with the bear, who takes up so much space inside that Abby, Leah, and the girl must sit nearly crushed against the wall, at the table.

“Thank you,” the girl says, and she begins her story.  “I am Rose, and this is Wil,” she adds, gesturing to the bear.  “We’re from Freudenstadt, not so far from here. We loved each other--we _love_ each other,” she corrects herself.  “No one knew, of course. I was afraid to tell.  And Wil, they were so brave. They told their family that they were neither man nor woman, but in-between, and that they loved me.  Their family was furious. They took Wil to a warlock and told them that if they did not want to be what they were born as, they might as well be a bear.  And the warlock turned them into a bear at their family’s request. Their mother told my mother, and my mother told me that I would not ever see Wil again, but I slipped out and found them.  I knew it was them when they did not attack me, as another bear might. We have been walking for days, looking for someone who might turn Wil back. When we saw your garden, so beautiful, we knew it could only have been the work of a woods witch.  The best gardeners in Freudenstadt could never grow plants so healthy and tall. So,” she finishes, in a rush of breath, “will you help us?”

“Of course!” Leah says, at first surprised by her eagerness, but than she remembers.  Others are not so lucky as she and Abby are, to be secluded away from hatefulness. All these two want is to be free to love each other.  Where is the shame in that?  “We will help you.”

 _“Can_ we?” Abby whispers, drawing Leah aside, brushing against Wil’s side.  “That’s big magic. We’ve never done it before.”

“I don’t know if we can.  But we must try,” Leah replies, trying to recall the ingredients for a transfiguration spell.  “A rose of every color from the garden, right? And myrrh, and cocklebur?”

“Yes,” Abby says, and leaves without another word to collect the roses.  Leah nods to the girl, whose face relaxes in relief, and Leah busies herself with rooting through the shelves.  They hardly ever use myrrh, or cocklebur--they’ve never needed it in all their small tasks. She finds both at the back of a shelf, and sets about adding it to a clean pot.  (She’ll have more to wash later, but no mind--two spells must not come together.) Abby comes back with a veritable rainbow of roses--red, white, yellow, pink, blue, orange, purple--and sets them on the table.  The pot overflows with the roses and herbs, especially since they haven’t separated the blossom from the root, but, to their collective relief, Leah’s words-- _inside out and back again--_ work, and the roses and herbs dissipate into an evil-smelling tea.  Abby is about to find a teacup when she stops, and glances at Leah. They can’t very well give the bear a teacup, they realize.  They will swallow it whole.

“Wait,” Abby says, and takes a bowl from a cabinet.  “They can drink from here.” Leah pours the tea into the bowl and gives it to Rose, who sets it before Wil.  Wil sniffs it before lapping it up eagerly, despite its stench. There is a moment of silence.

Wil roars in pain, causing the walls of the cottage to shake.  They thrash about, and Leah feels herself shrinking into Abby, disappointment overcoming them both, that they could not help these two to love each other freely, when the bear disappears in a puff of smoke that leaves them all coughing and teary-eyed.

When the smoke clears, the bear is no more.  A long-legged person lies on the floor, their dark hair obscuring their face.

“Wil!” Rose cries, and shakes them.  They roll onto their back and blink, revealing eyes blacker than the starless night.  Rose helps them up, and they stare at their hands for a moment, before pulling Rose to them and kissing her.  Abby presses a hand to her mouth in joy and relief, her other arm wrapped around Leah’s waist.

When Wil and Rose finally break apart, they both turn to Leah and Abby, their fingers twined together.

“Thank you!” Wil breathes, their smile delighted.  “How do we repay you?”

“Here’s how,” Leah laughs, joy spreading warmly through her chest.  “Go! Go and find somewhere to be happy, somewhere where people love you for who you are!  There is a place not far from here, called Ansovald. It is eight miles to the north. The people there are like you, like us.  They will welcome you into their family.”

Wil nods, and, with a quick goodbye, the two run out the door, laughing, Wil whirling Rose about in a wild dance as they travel north, towards safety and new family.

Leah watches from the door, Abby leaning her head on her shoulder.  As Wil twirls Rose out of sight, she raises Abby’s chin to hers and kisses her.  It is no matter if the cottage is a little damaged from the bear’s thrashing, or if they will have to replant all those roses.  They have given two lovers cast out by society a chance to be happy, and that is more important than to them anything they have ever done in their quiet years spent in the Black Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> The last part of the story is based on the myth of Minthe, a naiad of the River Cocytus who seduces Hades. I tinkered with it a bit, as you can see. Constructive criticism is appreciated.


End file.
